Hereafter

“What?” Tristan said, the remnants of a smile still lighting his face. “What’s wrong?”

My throat completely closed. I stared at Tristan, desperate, until realization washed over his face. Then, all of a sudden, a hush came over the bluff. Bea dropped her fork and stared at us. Lauren stopped dancing. Slowly, everyone else on the dance floor stilled as well.

That was when I felt it, creeping up my legs and over my shoulders. The cold wetness of it. The first fingers of fog curled around my feet and my knees went weak. The sparklers started to hiss and smoke, dying out one by one.

“Sonofa—” Joaquin said, turning around to face it.

The fog rolled in over the bluff, rushing toward us over the grass. Tristan, Krista, and Joaquin all stared at me grimly until the mist consumed them.

“It’s my dad,” I croaked finally, the fog hissing in my ears. “I’m supposed to take my dad.”

Broken

A clear path to my father opened up in the fog. I could see him plain as day, looking wonderingly, blindly, into the mist. I was supposed to walk along that path, take his arm, and usher him over the bridge to his eternal life.

“No,” I shouted. “No! I won’t do it. I can’t.” I turned around and ran, the fog engulfing me from all sides.

“Rory, no!” Tristan shouted.

I could practically feel him coming after me and turned on the speed.

“Don’t!” Joaquin yelled. It sounded like he was somewhere to my left, but it was impossible to tell. Still, I turned right and barreled ahead, tears streaming from my eyes, trailing across my face, and dripping onto my shoulders.

My father was going to die. He was going to die for real. That’s what this really was, wasn’t it? This moving on? He was going to leave, and I was going to be left here. Alone.

“Rory! Stop now!”

Something in Joaquin’s voice made me freeze. I gasped for breath, the ragged effort scratching my lungs.

“Don’t. Move,” Tristan instructed. “You’re right on the edge of the bluff.”

I gasped, my head going weightless. Suddenly I could feel it, the emptiness in front of me. My toe twitched, and a rock popped over the edge, clicking along the wall into the endless nothing. I had almost fallen. I could have been killed. Except…

“So what?” I cried, my voice cracking as I turned around. I couldn’t see them. There was nothing but fog. “I can’t die, right?” I shouted into the nothingness, my fingers curling at my sides. “Who cares if I fall?”

“No,” Tristan said, appearing in a swirl of mist, his hand outstretched. “You can’t die.”

“But you can break every bone in your body,” Joaquin added, stepping up next to Tristan. “And believe me, that hurts.”

I let Tristan close the gap between us and pull me away from the edge. Down below, the surf crashed louder.

“It’s okay, Rory,” Tristan assured me, holding me at arm’s length. “No one expects you to take him.”

“Of course not,” Joaquin added. “We made a pact.”

“It’s not that,” I said, sniffling as I shook my head. “I may not take him tonight, but I’ll have to eventually. I’m going to have to say good-bye to my father. I had to say good-bye to my mother, and next it’ll be my father, and then Darcy…” I felt as if my chest were splitting open. As if it would never be mended. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this, Tristan,” I gasped. “It’s not fair. It’s not…fair.”

“I know,” he said, pulling me to him and letting me cry all over his pristine blue shirt. “I know it’s not fair.”

“This is so intense,” Joaquin said. “We’ve never had a Lifer have to sit here and watch their family go, one by one.”

I let out a loud sob.

“Dude. Just stop talking,” Tristan said.

Joaquin blanched. “Sorry.”

Somewhere in the depths of the mist, a car door thunked shut, and an engine revved. A shiver went through me. No one should be driving in this mess, which made me wonder what sort of person would try, and for what reason.

“Listen, we’re not going to figure out what’s going on or how to fix it tonight, and no one is taking your dad,” Tristan said, releasing me. “So why don’t you just go home with your family? Spend some time with them tonight. That’s what you should be doing.”

“Yeah?” I asked, glancing back in what I thought was the direction of the house. “How do I get them to leave? Darcy hates me, and my dad is clearly on a date.”

“Tell your dad you’re gonna blow chunks,” Joaquin said. “He’ll go home with you.”

I shot him a disgusted look, but he just shrugged.

“And he’ll make Darcy come because he won’t want to leave her behind in this,” Tristan added.

“Great. Then she’ll really hate me,” I muttered. “She’ll think I’m lying just to ruin her night or something.”

“So stick your finger down your throat and puke if you have to,” Joaquin said. “That’ll get the job done.”

I laughed in disbelief, but they said nothing, and I knew then how urgent the situation was. This was no joke. It was time for me and my family to go home and spend some time together. We didn’t have any to spare. 

Movie night

“This movie’s stupid,” Darcy grumbled, snuggling further into the couch cushions.

“Bite your tongue,” my dad shot back, his arm slung around my shoulders. “This is one of the greatest films of all time.”

We were watching Superman—the original one from the 1970s—on his laptop, which glowed brightly in the center of the coffee table. It was ridiculously cheesy, but it was one of my father’s favorites, so at the moment, I didn’t care.

“Fine, but we’re watching Footloose next,” Darcy muttered.

“Kevin Bacon?” Dad said hopefully.

Darcy gave him a look, as if she was embarrassed to share the same air with him. “Please. Do I look like I’m forty?”

“Okay, fine. We’ll watch your version. What about you, Rory?” my dad asked. “What’s your pick for this little all-nighter you’ve got planned?”

“I don’t care,” I said honestly, tugging the musty afghan up over my shoulders. “I’ll watch whatever.”

“The Natural it is, then,” he announced.

Darcy groaned, and I stifled a laugh. Dad could have whatever he wanted as far as I was concerned. I hadn’t been forced to fake illness to make him leave the party. The mayor had mysteriously disappeared on him, and he said he was more than ready to “blow this Popsicle stand,” as he put it. Darcy had been the harder sell, but my dad put his foot down. Joaquin was right. He didn’t want her walking home alone in the fog.

So now here we were, ensconced in our little house, the fog still clouding the windows as we indulged in a family movie marathon. As Superman struggled with his kryptonite necklace on the screen, I rested my head against my father’s chest and listened to his improbable heartbeat. I hadn’t done this in so long—cuddled with my